


the flutter that follows intrusion

by Anonymous



Category: One Piece
Genre: Multi, Other, Reader-Insert, Transmigration, tags will increase as it goes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:27:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28957938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: you were never the type to try and fix things with your own hands, and you didn’t consider yourself smart enough for the articulate plans that you somehow theorized would change the world. you’re native, and as smart and cold as you tried to be— you were a child at heart with a soul that daydreamed about endless possibilities.maybe that’s why when you died, you had forgotten your old life and was forced to accept that you had been set in a world that you had seen over 1,000 episodes about.
Relationships: Donquixote "Corazon" Rosinante & Reader, Donquixote "Corazon" Rosinante & Trafalgar D. Water Law, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Trafalgar D. Water Law & Reader
Kudos: 17
Collections: anonymous





	1. scene one

**Author's Note:**

> this is just a comfort fic for me, but if you want to enjoy it then feel free to
> 
> if updates are inconsistent then it’s because its nothing serious, i just didn’t want this to sit in my folders to collect dust. plus this is just a result of my daydreams and unresolved pain from watching this damned anime. also the characterization is mostly a projection of myself, so i hope that it doesn’t irk anyone because i don’t really don’t to give reader an empty persona.

Your clothes weren’t the best suited for weather like this, as freezing chills still managed to sneak under the cotton of your sweater and seemed to engrave itself into every inch of your skin. Your coat followed behind you and danced along with the breezes of snowy air, the scent of salty ocean water as well as smoke twisting in it. 

Dark eyes blearily blinked at the fire that seemed to engulf and devour the building ahead, and you felt yourself fall into a gentle awe at the sight before turning towards the soft sounds of gruntled breathing. 

Snow crunches under your boots, the toe of the leather shoes gathering up the fluffy white before it melted back into liquid as you approached the person hanging onto life. Blonde hair, smeared and bloodied makeup, uneven breaths. The large black feathered coat that seemed to cushion them was possibly the most subtle thing about the person as they laid upon the snow, heart patterned shirt stretching every time they took a strangled breath. 

“You did well.” You managed to speak, finally reaching the tall man with your bag beside you. The bag rattles softly as you crouch at his side, watching as he blinked at you suspiciously. You were a stranger after all, a nobody who had no name and no recognizable deeds. “It’d be a waste to have you die so soon. A character like you, so  _ lovable _ despite the lack of story to you.” 

The snow melted into the fabric of your pants, but you didn’t pay much attention to the feeling once you unclasped the gold button of the bag you had brought. The bullet wounds were easy to manage, as well as the bleeding. What mattered was  _ time _ , how quickly you could do the job without the patient passing out and deciding to die. The contents within the bag varied, however your main focus was the first aid tools that seemed to call out to you in the form of a silver tin and white box with a prominent red plus. 

The man met your eyes, the look of suspicion much more prominent as he tried to voice his questions. Words struggled to come out, mostly thanks to his exhaustion and seemingly the pain erupting across his body. 

Yet you answered for him, a careful smile on your lips as you pointed towards the ruined button-up that did its best hiding the wounds on his chest. 

“May I? You don’t have a lot of time left to breathe so freely and I’d like to save you.” 

The blonde hair on his face fluttered thanks to the breeze, and after a pause, he let his head fall upon the snow in defeat, beginning to nod. 

“Don’t kill me.” Is all he managed to mutter, adjusting his focus back to steadily breathing. You laughed softly, plucking out the unopened bottle of alcohol and cotton pads before patiently unbuttoning his shirt.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

You worked patiently, and forced some pain medication down his throat in hopes that he wouldn’t scream when the feeling of tweezers wriggled into his wounds to pluck out the metal lodged into his chest. There were so many, it was almost traumatizing and you begrudgingly had to keep your grip on your tweezers as still as possible.

_ Blood _ , it’s a lot of blood. You could see him dozing, eyelids falling occasionally. Though you would beat him to it, blooded gloved hands snapping in front of his face or prompting thoughtful questions. 

(“How tall are you?” 

“Huh..? Last time.. 9’7 ft..?”

“Must be draining being that tall.”)

Truly it was a miracle that you managed to keep him stable, and a bigger miracle that the stitchwork in various locations across his chest was clean enough to be live-worthy. There’s a question in his eyes, a concern that prompts him to whimper softly. 

You’re finished wrapping the gauze around the wounds, the obtuse amount of bandages covering his body similar to that of a mummy. 

“He’s alive.” Is all you say, and it immediately provokes more life out of him than a child on their birthday. 

Blue eyes search your own, lipstick smeared lips opening and closing multiple before he finally manages to sigh in relief and lay himself back down. You could feel it, that child he had died for was at least out of the birdcage and the Flamingo who had shot him was now fleeing the island. The cage of strings was beginning to return to its owner, thread by thread, falling apart. 

“I-is he off?” The alcohol is pungent to the both of you, but you push through it in order to clean the scarlet off your items to avoid potential germs. 

There’s two “ _ he’s _ ” the man could be referring to, and you have a feeling that he’s asking about both. The one he  _ cares _ about and the one he  _ cared _ for. You set your needle back into the tin container, the cleaned medical tool joining the one made for sewing fabric and the one crafted for syringes. 

“One of them are.” You answer, organizing your tools and sliding them back into the bag with instinctive movement. You peel off your bloodied gloves, the biohazard joining the plastic bag that was stuffed full with soaked cotton. 

He huffs out a word that you don’t seem to catch, and he finally finds the strength to relax much more comfortably. Then he’s watching you, you can feel the weight of his analyzing gaze. He was a former marine commander after all, motives are heavily studied when it comes to that line of work. 

A strand of your hair tickles the skin behind your ear, and you scratch it quickly before returning your attention to the man once you’ve swung the bag over your arm just as before. 

“Why’d you save me?” 

You knew this was going to happen, these aren’t just characters anymore. They were people who bled, spoke, and felt. So you decided to blink at his serious expression, eyes meeting his before taking out a packaged makeup wipe out of the bag. 

“Because I was bored.” Is all you answer with, yet it’s so much  _ more _ than that. The both of you know it, but he’s staying silent and you’re busy cleaning the cosmetics off his face much to his distaste. 

His name is Donquixote Rosinante, a cigarette always hanging over his lip between his teeth and a generally welcoming personality. He’s a nobody, as well as somebody. He’s a man who gave up his dream to spy on his own blood brother, as well as a man who gambled his life in exchange for a boy wearing a spotted white hat, a man who earned your love within the handful of episodes he was featured in. 

_ Episodes _ . 

Yes, you didn’t belong in this world. This was just a show you decided to binge while on vacation, in which you finished an entirety of it in only four weeks. Four weeks flooded with emotions, pain, and things you’ve never even heard of. 

The concept of piracy and inhuman powers becoming a reality was unheard of in your world, which was full of normalcy containing communities on cellphones and what you thought were realistic ideals. Maybe you were insane, maybe it was just a really,  _ really _ realistic fever dream. You didn’t even know how you had gotten here, only a distant memory of an overturned and spilt bottle of NyQuil as well as a mess of papers upon the floor; you could only say that you drank so much that you probably died in the middle of studies. 

It was the beginning of a new semester after all. 

Regardless, you had to adjust to this new life and was doing a great job until your time here had begun to catch up to the timeline of the show you were now a part of. Besides if it  _ was _ a dream, there would be no harm in you twisting some of the timeline, was there? It’s not like god himself would strike you down. 

So now you’re confronted by a small Trafalgar Law, whose eyes are wide and dusted red thanks to the gigantic blobs of salty tears that had descended down his cheeks mere minutes ago. His attention is completely on the man who’s leaning on you as support, too much of a difference in height to be comfortable but you manage to keep him upright enough so that his wounds don’t open up. 

The man you had immense adoration was now shrunken down to possibly just above your hip, though you couldn’t be accurate considering his bulbous hat was plopped right on his head. 

You stared as the two just stared at each other until one of the two finally made a move. 

“Y-you said he wouldn’t hurt you!” Law stammers, angry and fuming. It would’ve been cute if it was so full of wrath and immeasurable hate. “I was so sure you were fucking dead!” 

Then it dissolves into sobs, because he’s still a young boy who nearly lost his second father figure. 

Nevermind, it was kinda cute. Though you were slightly a sadist and your opinion could always be disagreed upon. 

You could see as the boy’s hands were clenched and Rosinante was trying his best to comfort him, and as lovely as it was— you needed to get them off the island. Saving the man was just activating the beginning of karma, the butterfly effect was already beginning to set in and you didn’t want to stick around to see what it would do to you while you were on this accursed island any longer than you had to. 

“I’m alive though!” The blonde sputters, releasing his support on you as he crouches down to Law’s height, he smiles. Not the same smile that he had bid affection towards the boy, but a smile. It’s one that’s forced but it’s affirming. “That’s what counts, right?” 

Law grits his teeth, and he defeatedly slumps into the hug that the man offers him. He’s never been one for physical affection, but he allows it just this once. 

It’s sweet, and you want to sob at the sight. You never thought this scene could be possible outside of fanfiction, which unsurprisingly, you had even tried writing for yourself. Too bad though, you weren’t that talented in literature despite your average performance in English classes. 

The two get one more sniffle out before you decide to interrupt them, hand over your lips as you begin to cough in order to break the mood.

“I’m sorry for ruining your little reunion,” your eyes drift towards the coast, reminding yourself about where your boat was located. “But you guys need to get out of here.” 

“And who are you?” Ah, there’s the assertive Law that you were used to seeing on screen. 

Surprisingly, Rosinante stops him from baring his teeth at you. Not necessarily stopping him from  _ baring _ his teeth, but the older man manages to stop the boy from charging at the stranger. 

“They saved me, I’m sure they’re not an enemy.” 

“Just because they’re  _ not _ an enemy doesn’t mean they’re a friend either!” 

You’ve learned that your new identity doesn’t really have a flexible face, taking on a placid expression most of the time which gives some pros and cons. You internally cooed at the angry little Law, even when thin and hardened into a cold child; he was still  _ very _ squishable. 

Humming softly, you merely threw a thumb towards the sound of waves and ships beginning to approach. 

“Unless you wish to be interrogated by the Marines, I’m only going to repeat myself one more time.” You let a smile carve on your face, trying to appear as nice as possible. “You guys need to get out of here.” 

“What makes you think we’ll trust you?” 

You merely shook your head as you laughed, making your way towards where you had docked your boat. It was just a small sailboat that you had stolen a few islands ago, cozy and definitely your style. It even had enough room for a little library, which you had indulged in whilst setting sail. 

“You don’t have to trust me, as I said before; I’m only doing this because I’m bored.” A hand in your coat’s pocket, you pulled out a foil bar. It seemed to harden up thanks to the weather, but it didn’t really matter to you as you tossed it towards the two. “If saving the two of you will entertain me then so be it, and I’m sure that sailing with me would be better than explaining to the marines where their precious devil fruit ended up.” 

That was only meant to be a tease, but Rosinante easily caught the item you had tossed towards them. He looked down at it a couple times, looking up and your retreating figure before showing it towards the child beside him. 

It was a chocolate bar. 

The branding was paper printed, but the stamped name of the brand was as recognizable as any other tier item. 

The blonde looked as Law seethed, almost annoyed. As much as he wanted to share the same feelings and reject this stranger’s offer, he found that he couldn't. 

You had already shown kindness through mending his wounds, and you even offered to guide him towards where his boy could be. Even if the raft that the two had traveled on was still somewhere on this little island, this was  _ still _ the grand line. 

He mentally solved this puzzle, biting the skin of his thumb as he contemplated. 

“Do you really want to trust a random stranger?” Law stared at the chocolate bar, and oddly enough— a part of him was sure that confectionery was for him. Not necessarily a bribe, but an afterthought. 

Rosinante pulls his thumb away from his lips, staring back at the snow-ridden grounds that he had nearly died on. He thinks about Law, who had sobbed inside a small treasure box whilst listening to him bleed out. He thinks about his brother, who was so far gone that he didn’t hesitate before pulling the trigger. 

“ _ You did well _ .” 

The stranger had said that, with grace and it sounded like praise.

He swallows. 

“They did say that we didn’t have to trust them.” 

Law makes a face, as if in disbelief. The red is still around his eyes and dusts his nose, the amber lead is still much splotching his face. He doesn’t look any healthier, yet he immediately turns and follows the footsteps that you had left in the snow. 

At the sound of Rosinante apologizing and trying to make conversation with the annoyed Law right behind you, you can only smile and softly fangirl.

It’s not everyday that one of many of your favorite characters lives, and not to mention you yourself saved them. 


	2. scene two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> evening/morning.. did you get some water to drink today?

When it was animated, it was cute watching the duality between Rosinante and Law. 

The clumsiness, the snarky comments, the reluctant but knowing father and his rude son. It was a duo that you had thought was immeasurably adorable and paired with the baby face that Law had as well as the doting personality that the man had, it was something that caught your heart and didn’t  _ dare _ let go. 

On the sailboat, you’re cozying on one of the built-in benches beside the railings. Just relaxing away as two criminals make themselves awkward on the deck, torn between watching you and waiting for commands. 

It’s slightly funny, but you rise from the multiple quilts you have on your body and allow your head to rest upon your hand. 

“You guys can make yourselves at home y’know.” 

The ship is far from Minion Island at this point, and now the ship is just following where the waves decide to drift. It’s still fairly chilly though, which is why you’re bundled up and set up a few blankets beside you. 

“We still don’t get your intentions and because of that, it’s kinda hard to make ourselves at.. ‘home’.” 

You set your book down, yawing softly as you rose from where you laid. 

“If you wanted a tour you could’ve just said so.” 

Law’s face immediately scrunches up much to the concern of Rosinante. 

“That’s not what—”

“You guys must be cold too, plus your clothes from the island are rather…” you size them up, Law in literal rags with some shoes and Rosinante.. who’s shirt still has bullet holes in it as well as dried blood. “I have some spare sweaters if you’d like.” 

Twenty minutes later, Rosinante is in a yarned sweater that is a little too large and scented like cranberries. He wants to ask why you have an article of clothing this large but then again it was found in the pajamas box of the storage closet. Law is in the smallest sweater you owned, which was one with an embroidered snow leopard slapped right on the chest. It took a few tries to get him to put it on, but thanks to the older man’s insistence and eventual forcing; it was now on him. 

“Umm,” You look up from organizing the clothing, to which Law is stomping out and the blonde is nervously scratching the back of his head. “Do you even know our names? There’s no reason to lend us  _ this _ much..” 

He’s right, you as a person don’t know their names. 

“I forgot we skipped introductions.” There’s an apologetic look that crosses your face, turning to face the man as you prompt him to start. The sweaters are still slung over your arm as you began to pronounce the name you carried from your past life and into this one. Even if your parents in this world insisted that you be addressed by the articulate title that they exclaimed when you were born, they allowed you to carry the name that was always familiar to you. 

Law lets out a ‘tsh’ after hearing you say it, before returning his attention to the new article on his body. You want to imagine that he’s amazed or pleased by the sweater, but you also push thoughts like those away. No child should be amazed simply by comfortable clothing, and this was Law. He wasn’t an ordinary child. 

“I’m Corazon,” it was always that affectionate nickname that seemed perfect for even a man as intimidating as Rosinante, this nickname that you would fawn over and bounce energetically to just by the mere mention of it. “And this is-”

“Trafalgar Law.” The boy finishes himself, eyes still boring into you with what you could define as never ending suspicion. 

You smile at the two you picked up, and hold out a sweater at arms length towards the youngest on the ship. It’s a cotton crewneck that is well loved, a few sewn patches with shades not so different from the signature yellow. On the sleeves though were embroidered flowers, small but they traveled from the shoulder to the cuffs of each sleeve. 

Law seemed almost disgusted by the article, but you just leaned down to his height and showed it off. 

“May I call you Tra?” 

“No!” 

Having the two of them on the ship was a delight, though most of what you were thinking was just flattery towards the characters you had grown to love. Corazon was extremely clumsy, tripping on things that weren’t even there, and often catching his coat on fire for no reason. He made a pretty decent meat stew though, and did his best when helping around the ship. 

Law was quite the opposite of lovely, but he had his charms that were undeniably rare for a boy his age. The library now was used by two, even three if Corazon was that bored. Usually your medical books and more graphic novels were swallowed in by the boy’s curiosity, and he could never stray away whenever you had a new thought in mind. 

You’ve also learned just how much Law will do to not eat bread, and what Corazon will do to force him to eat bread.

“You need carbs!” Cora would exclaim, a freshly sliced piece in his hand as he held tight on the collar of Law’s shirt. 

“I’ll need them when I’m dead!” Law would argue back, hiding and scampering away the minute Cora’s grip became too loose. The mini game of hide and seek between them on the ship was very entertaining to watch, especially when Corazon would stride angrily past Law’s hiding spot multiple times. You didn’t even need haki to find him, which made it all the more funny shrugging the younger Donquixote off and replying that no,  _ I haven’t seen him _ . 

(Corazon had called your name as you repaired an old fishing net, one that had torn when the man in question tore it upon another fateful stumble. He sheepishly looks at the damaged piece before scratching the back of his head and asking where Law had scampered off to. 

“I..” you could see across from you, a matted but soft white hate hanging over tired but stern eyes. They’re the signature gold that you found impressive, even  _ pretty _ . “No, I don’t know where he is.” 

The blonde man whines loudly, visibly deflating in a sigh. 

“I tried to give him a sandwich! And he won’t eat it! So he ran!”)

It’s alright though, because before you were set in this world— you made some pretty decent pastas. Sure, some items and necessities may be placed under different names but you never failed to miss the fragrant scent of alfredo and chili brewing in a nicely seasoned tomato sauce. Not to mention that Law took pasta easier than most foods, mostly because it was smooth and he always seemed to prefer foods that didn’t take too long to chew or swallow. 

It’s been three weeks since you’ve taken to the seas, and the boy in question finds you in the largest room on the boat with a book in your hands. 

The captain’s room. Well, it was more of an expanded storage room really. Shelves lining most of the walls, a few weapons that you cherished hung above your desk, and your bed was made out of straw and worn cotton sheets. 

Law looks healthier, plump on the cheeks more so than when you had first met him. 

“Why did you save Corazon?” 

“Didn’t I already tell you?” You snicker back, setting your book down. It was just a slim copy of Nolan the Liar, which you now knew was about a man who had seen reality and told others too late. 

“We all know that’s not the  _ only _ reason.” 

Law is more decisive with his words, he understands the everburning adrenaline in your veins and the curiosity that never seems to burn out. You’re not evil, he knows that. You keep silver utensils in the kitchen just so he can make sure that none of the food is poisoned, even if Corazon is the one to make it. He knows that you’re kind as well, more patient than most when it comes to personalities like his. 

“I did it because..” you ponder, before standing to reach towards him before crouching to his height. He flinches, and is annoyed that you’ve come to pinch his cheek and pull it like it was mochi. “He looks kind.” 

That was your first impression of Rosinante anyway, a man who was just as good at putting a mask on as he is gentle. 

Trafalgar doesn’t just take that though, but he understands what you mean. You can see it in his eyes before he lets his head fall down enough to let the brim of his hat shadow them away. 

“Him with his clown makeup and his inhuman height, then there’s the way he cares about you. Doesn’t he fawn over you like a father would, always carrying you by your shirt but not a day goes by where he isn’t concerned about these grey spots on your face.” 

Trafalgar didn’t tell anyone when he managed to start curing his illness, but it’s noticeable that it’s taking a good turn. He can run and attack like he used to, he’s more chatty, and he can stomach more than a couple spoonfuls of rich soup. It’s good progress even if it’s minimal, it makes you bubble inside. Though whenever he does spend time to cure more and more of the disease, he’s always locked in the pantry and you often have to pluck him up and tuck him into one of the many small bunks in the cabin. 

“I think you would’ve saved him too if you thought he looked kind, though you are kind of rude.” It was only a tease, and Law sputters with his fists clenched angrily.

_ AH! He’s scarily adorable..! _

With your hand still on his face, you pull it up to face your giddy smile. Well, as giddy as you could  _ try _ to be. 

“Or maybe I saved him because I was planning on turning him into my personal slave! His cooking isn’t  _ that _ bad y’know!” 

That’s when Law lets you go, hissing away and turning his head as you laughed. 

There’s a silence, and you’re thinking this is the end of the conversation. It hasn’t been long since you bathed, but the greasiness on your skin isn’t delightful and your itching for some peace. 

Yet something stops you once more, and it’s Law tugging on the ends of his shirt. It’s one of yours, fur sewed inside to keep warm whilst the exterior had eye-catching threaded patterns. 

“You didn’t have to.” 

Trafalgar is still a boy here, untrusting and still stares at you with angry eyes. Angry, studying, and careful. 

Inside your mind, you sigh. When you were his age, you were living the best life you could live. Shoving toys into the sky and playing with sticks, it was fun. So you blink back towards him and try to find a semblance of innocence in the little boy. 

His backstory, when you had watched it, was worth the entire box of tissues that you had used. It was sad, a trauma that you could never imagine living with. It’s not like he’d ever tell you about it, you weren’t someone that he could ever trust like Corazon. That doesn’t hurt you at all, because you’re  _ nobody _ . 

So to cope with that, you grin and pull the hat over his eyes once more as you stride towards the door. There’s a small laugh from you, the light from your lamp flickering as you nudged the boy towards the door alongside you. 

“I know.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as evident here, i was still on trafalgar and corazon procrastination. i adore these two, i hope the sentiment is shared along with everyone reading. i wish they didn’t have such a tragic ending, (spoilers) yet it was heartwarming that law wore cora’s name into the doflamingo conflict. i just wish they had more fatherly/affectionate uncle and bratty son interactions.


End file.
